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APR
16

The Bucket List

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I've been plugging away at the NYC version of my bucket list. My birthday was probably the greatest progress I've made yet--Pippin Vintage Jewelry (which I've since been back to), the elusive Central Park Carousel, etc.--and since I last updated this blog, I've gone to my first Knicks game and seen the Rockettes.

But of course, the NYC version of the bucket list is different from the overall Life version of the bucket list, and also since I last updated my blog, I took a little road trip and got to cross something off that I've always wanted to do (or see, I should say). And that is the cherry blossom festival in DC. True that they're just blossoms, and it's not as if one doesn't know what to expect when reading and hearing about the event ("blossoms everywhere" "a sea of blossoms" "blossoms all the way around [whatever that small body of water is called that is right there]"), but still, being there and seeing them was pretty breathtaking. Aside from the crowds (we hit it right at the peak weekend), it was a glorious weekend. And even though you know they will be, it still makes you shake your head in awe about there being so many blossoms. So many blossoms all in bloom at the same time. Indeed, there were large stretches of grass shaded completely by nothing but blossoms.

I'll shut up about the blossoms, but if you have a chance to see this one at some point in your life, you should. It smells divine, and it reminds you that the world truly is a beautiful place. At least DC is. On the second weekend in April.

JUN
21

The Longest Year

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A year ago today I did my first full read-through of the newly-completed Jeweled. I remember this because of a sad event that occurred in my life immediately after I finished this read-through. But that’s not what I want to talk about.

There’s a tree in my front yard, the kind of tree that blossoms every spring. The weeks when the tree is in bloom are my favorite of the whole year, and I’ll often stop and stare out the front window at the sea of fluffy pink. The tree is so tall that the blossoms also fill the windows of my bedroom upstairs. I look forward to this every spring, but with such a long and heinous winter this year, it didn’t surprise me that April came and went with no blossoms. May, too. Mother Nature was just a bit behind schedule. Polar Vortexes can do that. Coming up on July now though, it’s finally occurred to me that the beating all living things took this winter may in fact have killed my tree.

It’s a sad thing to realize the highlight of such a beautiful season won’t ever come back. That there will be no more blossoms. That some precious, beautiful ability has been unable to withstand the impact of a traumatic event. An event I had no control over that has now forever altered every future spring; left them to seemingly always be worse than they once were. It is maddening, it is unfair, and it is certainly tragic, but at the end of the day, there is still a tree in my front yard. And it has managed to grow some leaves. Vibrant, green leaves. Not as appealing as fluffy pink blossoms, but they are proof enough of life. Not just that it goes on, but that it never left. It’s just different. And maybe even—someday—better. Leaves, after all, do mean potential, and who’s to say what future springs will bring?

This is what I am telling myself one year later. I miss the blossoms, spring was definitely different without them, and should they ever reappear it would quite possibly *make* my life, but I can’t continue mourning their loss. Besides, the season has changed, and I’m putting my money on summer.

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